I watched as the boxes were unpacked, decades-old and carted around with all the other things. Pulled from deep within, the shoes of my youth, still stained with the orange clay of those fields.
I remember those shoes. I remember those fields.
I remember you.
And it’s warm, the air is full of fever and promise, the sun casting long shadows through the pines on the edges. We race for the ends, cheers from the sides, our girls watching and chatting and smoking, applauding the points and the sharp turn-arounds.
We ran those fields the way we ran our days, fast and looking to score.
And I remember you.
Your smile, the shine in your eyes as you followed us, laughing, so happy to be where we were.
That is where I leave you.
So that I won’t remember you anywhere else.